Old Friend
by TheSkyWriter
Summary: Years ago, a wheezy mechanical sound would have been music to Timothy McGee's ears, and still is to this day. But now, instead of running headfirst into an adventure with a madman with a blue box, Timothy McGee prepares to close this chapter of his life. Because everything has it's time, and Timothy McGee's time for dangerous travels across all time and space is over.


When Timothy McGee was a little boy, he had a friend. His friend was smart, fun, kind, and showed up to play every Saturday with young Timothy. His parents never worried, because they knew of the grove where he played with his friend, just into the forest behind their home. Timothy's friend was always on time, and never once late for a play date. They would play from dawn to dusk, and when Timothy got home, he would tell his parents of the 'adventures' that he and his friend had while playing in the grove that day. Timothy would wait anxiously for Saturday to come, just to see his friend again and continue the adventures that they had together.

As Timothy grew into a teenager, the Saturdays where he went to the grove never stopped. If anything, his stories about the 'adventures' he and his friend had become even more wild and dangerous. Getting stuck on a roller coaster on the moon suddenly turned into running away from metal men that wanted to enslave the earth. Timothy's father, while he didn't mind the games when Timothy was a child, grew impatient with the wild stories and commanded Timothy to either do something more productive with his friend, or find another friend. Timothy objected, stating that there would never be another friend like the one he played with on Saturdays, but Timothy's father held firm. So when Timothy turned fourteen, he stopped going to the grove behind his house and started meeting his friend in town. He told his parents about going to the bookstore with his friend or hanging out at the ice cream parlor in the town square instead. "You'll make yourself sick if all you do is eat ice cream and read all day." Timothy's mother once told him when he returned home from a Saturday meet-up. Timothy had only shrugged and journeyed up the stairs to his room to ready himself for bed.

And so the years passed, and when Timothy turned nineteen and took on the moniker Tim, he stopped meeting his friend every Saturday. The crazy tales of adventures slowed to a stop as Tim grew older and was hired at NCIS in Norfolk when he was a young man, and Tim's parents never heard a single one when he transferred to NCIS HQ in Washington. Sure, there were times when Tim would disappear for a day or so, but they were few and far between and Tim would always call his Team Leader, stating that he would be unable to come into work for whatever reason.

Now at thirty-seven years old, Special Agent Tim McGee stood at his kitchen sink, his hands up in sudsy waters and washing the dirty dishes from that day's lunch while his wife entertained their five-year-old son in the other room. Tim paused, then smiled sorrowfully at the sudsy water. A familiar sound that he addressed with action and adventure-a wheezy groaning mechanical-like sound-echoed through his open window from across the street. Tim looked through the window as the noise halted, and spotted a blue police call box standing on the other side of the street, as if it had always been there. Of course it hadn't, Tim had lived on this corner for six years and never once saw that police box on the street across from his home. Tim removed his hands from the water in the sink, dried them off on a towel, and walked to the front door. "Darling?" His wife, a lovely maiden with dark hair, olive skin, and doe eyes, called questioningly.

"I'll just be a moment, Zee." Tim called back to her, taking his coat off the rack and stepping out the door. "Keep Peter inside, it's too cold out here and I don't want him getting sick." He requested, just before shutting the door and turning to face the other side of the street. He tugged the coat on and walked out onto his lawn, but didn't go across the street.

A man with brown hair, a blue pinstripe suit, tan overcoat, and scarlet Converse, stood before the police box with no expression on his face and his hands in his pockets. He was a man Tim recognized immediately, and memories of going off to 'play' in a grove behind his childhood home filled his mind. Years ago, Tim would drop everything he was doing and make a beeline for the blue box, leaping inside just before the doors closed, with his best friend waiting inside. "Doctor." Tim greeted and gave his oldest friend a tiny smile.

The Doctor's eyes twinkled a bit. "Hello, Timothy."

Tim laughed quietly. "You know, you and an older gentleman I work with are the only ones that still call me that." He informed the Time Lord.

"Timothy is a great name, though!" The Doctor stated defensively.

"A mouthful." Tim replied.

"What about your father?" The Doctor asked.

"He died a year ago. A couple of years after we last saw each other." Tim informed him.

"I'm sorry, Timothy." The Doctor apologized. "How-"

"The cancer finally won out on the old Admiral." Tim answered. "He fought it as long as he could."

The Doctor pursed his lips. "When is it?" He deflected, for which Tim was grateful, which he displayed with the tiniest of smiles.

"January 2016." Tim informed the Doctor.

"So that would make it.."

"Seven years since we last saw each other. Right before I got married." Tim nodded.

"You're married?" The Doctor's bright chocolate eyes widened slightly in surprise.

"You were there. Gave us this house a year later." Tim replied, furrowing his brow. At the Doctor's perplexed expression, Tim laughed. "I suppose it hasn't happened to _this_ you yet. You didn't stick around to say hello, you just sat in the back of the grove and watched. One year later we received a notice from a real estate agent that said that a man, a very strange man, bought us this house and put the lease in our name. Funny, we never once considered this place; it was so far out of our price range." Tim laughed once more.

"Glad I could do something right for a change." The Doctor grinned self-loathingly.

"Doctor, if you never did anything right, the universe wouldn't exist right now." Tim replied sternly.

"Seven years." The Doctor breathed. Tim nodded. "Married now..."

"Mama, why's Daddy outside with a stranger?" A loud voice asked from inside the home. Tim chuckled and cast a wink to the open window, where a lithe little boy with golden hair and brown eyes watched their reunion.

"You have a son." The Doctor observed.

Tim chortled. "Yeah, he gets his volume from his mother!" He called boisterously.

"Paper clips, love!" His wife threatened, pulled the boy away from the window, and shut the curtains. Tim laughed.

"Paper clips? Isn't she the woman that threatened to kill you eighteen different ways with a paper clip?" The Doctor demanded. Tim laughed, nodding merrily.

"It's a long standing joke between us. One of the first things we ever bonded on." Tim answered with a wide smile.

"Your son. How old is he? What's his name?" The Doctor queried.

"Peter. Peter Elijah." Tim replied with a fond smile. "Named after Ziva's father."

"Ziva's father was named Peter?" The Doctor frowned.

"No, his name was Eli David." Tim corrected. "We lengthened it to Elijah. He's five years old now, just barely turned a month or so ago." The Doctor hummed and nodded in understanding. "And you? What about you; who've you got now?" Tim wondered and shoved his hands into his coat pockets.

"No one. Travelling alone." The Doctor shook his head and avoided Tim's piercing but soft emerald eyes.

"You know as well as I do that's not good for you, Doctor. The universe is too big and that brilliant mind too busy for you to travel alone." Tim replied gently.

The Doctor brightened instantly, and gestured to the door of the TARDIS. "If you're offering..." The Doctor hedged. "Plenty of room in here."

Years ago, an offer like that would have been an immediate yes. A hell yes, even. And still, the offer was sorely tempting. To travel the worlds, see the numerous stars up close, go back or forward in time again...Years ago, Tim would have jumped inside the TARDIS with no second thought whatsoever. Would have left it all behind with the assurance that whenever he wanted he could pick up right where he left it. Years ago.

But that was years ago. With a somber smile, Tim shook his head. "I wish I could, Doctor." Tim sighed, and the Doctor's smile vanished. "I really do wish that I could, but I can't. It's been seven years. I've gotten older. I have a family now; I'm a husband and father. I can't just drop everything and go like I used to. What if I don't come back?" Tim shrugged helplessly. "I can't just leave my family like that. With no idea what happened to me, or where was it that was so important. I've finally got used to a normal life again, and I just can't throw myself into this, because I know that if I do, I'll never want to leave."

"You could bring them with you." The Doctor offered. "I don't mind, really."

"And if we encounter the Cybermen? The Daleks? I'll just be putting them in danger at every turn. Ziva could handle herself no problem, but Peter? He could be killed." Tim laughed humorlessly. "Sometimes I wonder how I wasn't killed on all those adventures as a child."

"Timothy..." The Doctor lowered his gaze dejectedly.

"I don't regret anything, Doctor. Please know that." Tim begged, hating to see his oldest friend so miserable. "The adventures with you were the absolute best of my life. Nothing would stop me from entering the TARDIS again and again and again as a child. I wouldn't change a single day with you."

"I know." The Doctor smiled solemnly at Tim, the twinkle not yet restored in his chocolate eyes. "And I understand, I do. Your family needs you."

"My time with you is over now. It's run out." Tim agreed. "Now it's someone else's turn to see the wonders of the universe with a madman in a blue box." He teased, then glanced towards at his home. Through the curtains of the windows, the Doctor and Tim could see Ziva and Peter playing in the living room. Tim smirked knowingly at his friend, his emerald eyes twinkling mischievously. "You know, should you ever need a McGee to look after you out there in that wonderful universe, I believe I know a little boy that will grow up to be an incredibly curious young man, yearning for adventures beyond his imagination." Tim mused pointedly.

"Are you telling me to hop to the future and whisk Peter away into the TARDIS?" The Doctor's brow shot to his hairline in surprise.

"I'm saying no such thing, Doctor, only speculating what sort of man my son will become and remembering that you seem to like having a McGee around aboard the TARDIS out of hearing range of my wife." Tim disagreed with a shake of his head. Both men laughed quietly and shared a gleaming smile. "He knows of you, you know. I tell him stories of our adventures all the time." Tim noted softly.

"Maybe one day he'll experience one for himself." The Doctor responded thoughtfully.

"Just, don't take him to the Shadow Proclamation unless it's a dire emergency, alright?" Tim warned. "I still get goose bumps when I think of _that_ little adventure."

"You know how it works in the TARDIS." The Doctor retorted. Tim chuckled.

"Yes, I do." He confirmed. "You're welcome in our home anytime, Doctor. Always." Tim invited, spotting the door swinging open and his family inching out onto the porch.

"I'll take you up on that offer, Timothy. One day." The Doctor replied.

"We'll wait for that day." Tim answered with a sad smile. "Go find your next best friend."

"You'll always be my best friend." The Doctor countered, pulling the man into a large and affectionate hug. Tim relaxed at the familiar feeling of the Time Lord's double heartbeat and buried his face into the man's shoulder. "My Timothy McGee." They pulled apart and smiled at each other.

"Tell my son not to touch the glowing goo, even though he sees you licking it." Tim instructed and walked back towards his house, where his family and assured future awaited him. The Doctor roared with laughter beside the TARDIS. Tim smiled wearily, his thirty-seven years of age not matching the wisdom in his eyes. "Goodbye, Doctor." He called.

"Goodbye, Timothy." The Doctor called back, and with one final leave-taking wave, retreated towards the TARDIS.

"Who's that, Daddy?" Little Peter asked, peeking out the front door curiously. Tim grinned, hoisted the boy onto his left hip, and stood on the stoop.

"That, Peter," Tim began, just as the Doctor turned around to look. "Is the wisest and greatest man that has ever lived. A hero beyond all measure, a warrior and healer, an adventurer, a madman with a blue box, and Daddy's oldest friend. And one day, he might be yours, too." The two McGee's waved as the TARDIS faded from the street corner across from the McGee house, that wheezy groaning mechanical-like sound filling the air.

#

"Peter! Don't touch that!" The Doctor commanded, and the sixteen-year-old boy stilled immediately.

"You just _licked_ it off your _fingers_!" Peter argued vehemently, kneeling next to a pile of glowing blue goop in the sewer line of a Sontaran cruiser ship. His golden hair was exactly identical to his father's, as was the shape of his nose and eyes. But the glinting coffee hue of his irises, the olive tint in his pallor, and the structure of his chin matched that of his mother.

The Doctor paused, and smirked to himself. "Your father said for me to tell you not to touch it!" He retorted smugly, and Peter's eyes widened.

**Okay, I originally posted this on my Wattpad account years ago, and I personally love it for many reasons. One, David Tennant is my Doctor and always will be, even if I have a profound love and admiration for Matt Smith's portrayal. B…no…Two! Timothy McGee is my absolute favorite **_**NCIS**_** character and this was written way before Delilah was intro'd into **_**NCIS**_** (So, though I love Delilah so, I decided to keep this mention of McGiva for shipping purposes.). C, Tim as a companion of the Doctor? Hell yeah! And 23, I love you all and wish you the happiest memories for the upcoming holiday season!**


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